PDSU - Laughter in the Rain

Ulquiorra stood in the doorframe before he left for another mission. "Szayel isn't doing anything to you, is he?"

"Ulquiorra?" Orihime's eyes widened. "Wait, did—did you ask me something?"

To say she was surprised would've been an understatement. This was the first time since she arrived that he had posed her a question. And she didn't even have to start the conversation.

"Nothing," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Orihime opened her mouth, about to call to him, when Ulquiorra shut the door with a soft click. She stared at the door and sighed. "I guess it's better than nothing," she said, plopping down on the couch. "He seems to be making an effort to reach out to me. More than before, anyway."

"It's always baby-steps, as you humans would put it, when it comes to the Cuatro Espada."

"That's for sure," said Orihime with a slight smile. She jumped up from the couch and sprinted to the door.

"I have a surprise for you today, Orihime-san," Szayel said, shutting the door behind him.

Orihime looked at him curiously as they fell in step. "I'm not sure it's fair for you to be giving me so many surprises, Szayel-san. I don't deserve them. I didn't even thank you properly for the last one you gave me."

She thought back to a few days before, when he revealed the beautiful garden he created just for her. A blush formed on her cheeks when she remembered the way she had…

He waved dismissively. "That was nothing."

A better explanation of her behavior from a few days ago would've been more than thanks enough. Szayel thought back to his notes and how, yet again, both hypotheses were proven false because of her unexpected response to the environment.

Just what would it take for her to exhibit an elated response?

"Szayel?"

The Octave Espada stopped and slowly faced her. Orihime never called him by his name without 'san' attached at the end. For her to start now was very intriguing. And a bit worrisome. Perhaps she had figured out everything was a façade—an experiment and nothing more. An unnamed feeling rushed through him, almost like a mixture of relief, pride, and anxiety.

"Yes?"

Orihime shook her head. "I was just trying out your name without the formal title. I didn't realize until now that I was still calling you 'Szayel-san,' even though we're much better acquainted with each other. I mean, I started calling Ulquiorra 'Ulquiorra' after only a few days, so it's weird that I still call you 'Szayel-san.'"

Szayel sighed inwardly. So that's all it was. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

They resumed walking.

"You can call me Orihime again, if you want," she said, a little bit of a skip in her step. "If I'm calling you Szayel, it only makes sense."

"What a relief that will be. I never understood what was so important about those formalities your language insists upon," said Szayel, unable to stop himself.

Orihime shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think it's a relief having that system of formality. But I guess I'm so used to it by now. I'd prefer it to English. No real formal titles or anything is so strange."

"Maybe, but at least there's no hidden disdain. You don't have to act proper around someone you hate, and then talk about them behind their back," he said, opening the door to his domain. "You can tell them to their face you hate them. Those formalities are just another form of deceit."

Szayel noticed her eyes widen at his comment and resisted the urge to smack himself.

"I…never thought about it that way before." Orihime looked up at him, her eyes shining. "But when you put it that way, it makes sense."

"I'm glad you think so," he said, relieved he hadn't messed up the bonds he'd formed with his participant. They walked to the end of the hall and entered his main laboratory. "Now, Orihime, do you remember a small cube, a translating machine whose life was cut short by a certain Espada lacking any sense of humor?"

Orihime giggled. "You mean TREA?"

"The one and the same." Szayel motioned for her to stand by the pedestal, currently covered with a thin sheet. "The garden kept me from completing it earlier, but here it is." He removed the cloth to reveal TREA, looking as if Ulquiorra hadn't smashed it into a million pieces.

Orihime gasped. "Oh, Szayel!" She stepped closer to inspect his handiwork. If she hadn't known better, she would've thought it was brand new. There wasn't a scratch to be seen on its white casing. "TREA looks amazing!"

"Hey there, Orihime-chan," came a voice from inside the machine.

Orihime jumped back, bumping into Szayel. He placed his hands on her forearms and moved her closer to the machine. "Not to worry. This is perfectly normal. Well, now it is."

"What do you mean? I-I don't ever remember TREA being like this. I thought it was just a translator." She glanced at Szayel. "What happened?"

A small sigh escaped Szayel's lips. "It seems when Ulquiorra ceroed it, some of the hardware and wiring melted together. There wasn't anything I could do about that. Honestly, I didn't even think it would work, but I tried putting it together anyway. Lo and behold, TREA still worked, but with some new…personality quirks."

"More like gained a personality. Not that I'm complaining," added Orihime, holding her hands up defensively. "I've just never heard of a machine with a personality of its own."

Szayel frowned. "At least it offers more in the way of conversation than my Fraccion."

"That's right. You're usually with them when you're not watching me." Orihime forced a laugh. "I guess I'm not much better to talk to than them, huh?"

"You shouldn't compare yourself to the likes of them, Orihime," said Szayel, an edge to his voice.

Orihime bit her lower lip. "Sorry."

Szayel rubbed his temples. He hadn't meant to be firm with her. But for reasons he couldn't explain it grated on his nerves to hear her belittle herself.

"He just means you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Szayel-sama really enjoys the time he spends with you. Heck, I think it's the highlight of his week!" TREA said, startling Orihime from her daze. "So Orihime-chan, if you aren't busy later, how about the two of us get together?"

"I think," said Szayel, eyes narrowed, "that's enough out of you."

"Oh, you're no fun, Szayel-sama! You just want to keep Orihime-chan all for yourse—"

Szayel had taken that exact moment to flip the switch on the back of the cube.

Orihime looked at TREA, then at its creator. "I guess that cero changed it more than you thought."

"Yes. It would appear so."

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After the TREA incident Orihime felt like she needed a breath of fresh air—or at least, the closest she could get to one. She and Szayel were sitting in the middle of the garden room. Orihime leaned against a tall oak tree, her head resting against it as she looked at the leaves above, while Szayel sat beside her a foot away.

"Does it ever rain in Hueco Mundo?" she asked, breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers around them.

"Why?"

Orihime shrugged. "I asked Ulquiorra about it one day, but he didn't an answer. Actually, he stared at me for a few seconds then told me it was time for dinner." She twirled some of the grass between her fingers without ripping it from its roots. "I didn't bother asking him again. But I figured if anyone would know, it would be you. You know everything!"

Szayel smiled. "Well, not everything, I'm afraid," he said, and shifted into a more comfortable position. "What makes you think it could rain?"

"Well, it's a desert, isn't it?"

Szayel nodded. He could tell from her face that she had some kind of theory she wanted proven. The thought pleased him greatly.

"And what makes a desert a desert is that it loses more water than it gets," she said, tapping a finger against her lips. "In that the case, it has to rain at some point, or else it wouldn't have any water to lose."

"I follow your line of logic." Szayel removed his gloves and placed them in his pockets. The room was too warm for his liking. "Unfortunately I've never heard of it raining in Hueco Mundo. Not even from the oldest of Hollow or Arrancar. The only rain we encounter is if and when we go to Earth."

Orihime stretched her legs out in front of her. She had been sitting on them for so long, she was starting to feel pins and needles. Her hands moved to her calves, hoping to massage the feeling back into them. "It's never rained? Not even once?"

"Is it really that surprising," asked Szayel, watching her briefly before forcing himself to look away, "in this environment that contains no life?"

Light pitter-patter from above interrupted before Orihime could answer. They both glanced up, but all they saw was the artificial sky and puffy clouds making up the ceiling. Szayel ignored the sound and turned to Orihime.

But she was still looking up.

"Orihime?"

The look on her face was a mixture of confusion, awe, and—was that happiness?

"Rain," she muttered, and rushed to her feet, nearly tripping in the process. She didn't have all the feeling back in her legs.

"What are you talking about?" asked Szayel.

She didn't answer. Rushing to a small window Orihime looked outside. Her eyes lit up. Szayel joined her and could hardly believe what he saw. Rain, just like she said, pelting down on the barren wasteland that was Hueco Mundo.

Orihime turned to him. The words came out of her mouth so quickly Szayel almost couldn't understand her. "I'll be right back." Then she took off, twisting the handle on the side door, and ran out.

The stupid girl. Didn't she understand there could be Hollow out there? What did she think she was doing?

"Orihime!"

Szayel followed after her but stopped at the doorframe, once he noticed she hadn't run too far away. He searched for any unfamiliar reiatsu but came up with nothing. Not even the small hollow-lizards that usually dotted the landscape were outside. He was about to call out to Orihime, demand she return to the room, and yet…

He couldn't. Szayel stared as the heavy rain already soaked into her uniform and hair. It was unlike anything the he had ever seen. Orihime's head was raised, her eyes closed. Her arms were at her sides, beads of water clinging to the ends of her fingertips. For a moment he was reminded of his released form, amazed how similar her fingers looked like his in that state.

Orihime reached for her collar and unzipped the top, and tossing it—along with the cape attached to it—onto the ground. When she opened her eyes, tiny droplets decorated her eyelashes like jewels. She raised her bare arms up, her hands cupped to catch the water before it fell to the ground. The rain trailed down her face, her neck, her arms, her chest, and followed the curve of her jaw.

What a waste, Szayel thought, although he wasn't quite sure what 'waste' he was talking about. An image of his mouth on her chin, his tongue catching the droplets before they had a chance to fall, flashed through his mind.

Szayel shook his head. He'd had enough.

Orihime walked over to him, her steps unsteady on the moist sand. "What are you still doing in there, Szayel? Come on out! The rain won't melt you or anything!"

That's when he noticed it. That smile. The smile he had been trying for so long to elicit. And there it was: pure, bright, and almost blinding, in its own way.

"You're…enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked.

Her smile grew as she nodded, water from her hair dripping onto him. She tsk-ed softly, hands on her hips. "I thought a scientist like you wouldn't want to pass on a chance like this! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, if what you said earlier was true."

She has a point, a voice in the back of Szayel's head pointed out.

"Come on out," said Orihime softly, holding her hands out.

Szayel stared at them, at her reaching out for him, and her words from a week ago popped into his head of their own accord:

"You can only reach out for so long before you realize they're not going to reach back."

His hand reached for hers. All he had to do was grab her hand—grab it and pull her back in, to stop this nonsense. But the moment their hands touched, Szayel found he couldn't. He was fascinated, drawn in by the softness. It was just like the smoothness of her cheek he felt during their first meeting. And then there was her warmth, passing from her hands to his bare ones. She should've been cold, as soaking wet as she was.

Szayel felt a light tug and glanced down at Orihime. "Of course."

The rain started pouring down on him. Now his uniform was as soaked as hers. They stood there for a while, listening to the patter of the rain around them.

"It's cleansing, isn't it?" asked Orihime, still holding onto his hand. "That why I love the rain. I can stand under it and let it wash away my worries, my doubts—everything. Then, when it's all done, I feel a lot better. Weird, huh?"

Szayel shook his head, pink stands clinging to his face. He moved his hair. "Not at all," he said, and meant every word.

He noticed the grip Orihime still had on his hand. A bit of warmth rose to his cheeks. At the same time she noticed their interwoven hands and let go, blushing. Neither said a word.

"You know what we should have?" Orihime said, suddenly excited. "We should have a water fight!"

"A what?" Szayel had no idea what she was talking about. For all his studying of humans and their existence, he never came across anything about water fights.

Orihime cupped her hands, allowing the rain to pool, and then threw water at him. Her aim was spot on. The water hit Szayel square in the face. He didn't bother wiping the water off, not with the rain still pouring.

Szayel was torn. Orihime Inoue—human, participant, 'guest' of Las Noches—had just thrown a handful of water in his face. At him, the Octava Espada!

"See? Like that!" Orihime cupped her hands together again, prepared to launch another attack. She turned around, to where Szayel had been, only to find him missing. "Szayel?"

A large handful of water splashed her in the face.

Szayel stood before her, smirking. "I told you before, Orihime. You shouldn't start something unless you're going to finish it."

"What makes you think," said Orihime, smiling mischievously, "that I'm not?"

After what felt like minutes, even though Szayel knew it had to be much longer, he stopped and called out to her, "Why are we doing this? What purpose does it serve?"

"Does everything have to have a purpose? It's just fun, that's all!" Szayel blinked at her response, finding himself without an answer. Orihime laughed, clutching her sides. "Szayel, your face right now! It was so priceless!"

Szayel never did figure out a comparison for her smile—or her laughter. But he wasn't surprised. Her laughter and her smiles were so bright, so light, so pure, and Hollow and Arrancar were born from loneliness, heartache, and sorrow. It was no wonder he couldn't think of anything.

Orihime started running again, giggling as she went. Her laughs caught in her throat as she felt herself lose her balance on the moist sand. She prepared herself for the enevitable fall when a pair of hands pulled her up by her forearms.

Szayel sighed. "Can you be more careful? Ulquiorra and Aizen-sama will have my head if you twist your ankle again."

"Sorry, Szayel. But thank you for your help."

"It was nothing," he said. It looked like the rain was starting to let up. "I've had enough time to investigate this rain. And you?"

Orihime nodded, and they headed back inside.

-----------------------------------------------------

Szayel and Orihime returned to the flower room, water dripping everywhere. They wrung out as much of it from their hair and clothing as they could, but it became obvious that no matter how much water they got out, they'd still be soaking wet.

"I'll get you something to change into," said Szayel.

"I'll be fine," Orihime said, holding her damp cape in her hands. "I should be dry by the time I have to go back to my room."

Szayel shook his head. "Even if it is fairly warm here, your clothing won't dry for a few hours at least. You'll be in your room before then, and it's much cooler there than it is here. We don't want to risk lowering your resistance."

"Are there even any illnesses here in Hueco Mundo?"

A beat passed.

"Well, if you want to stay in your wet clothing," said Szayel, shrugging, "who am I to stop you?"

The feeling of fresh, dry clothing was rather appealing. "It's not that I want to," Orihime said, "but I don't think I have any extra clothing to wear."

"You don't have any spare uniforms?" Szayel asked, nodding to the cape in her hands.

"I do. But I don't know where the spares are. A new one appears on my table when I wake up in the morning."

"And what about the clothes from when you first arrived to Las Noches?"

"I have no idea. When I changed into this, they took my school uniform from me. I haven't seen it since. I think they threw them away."

"If that's the case," Szayel said, "I'll see if I can find you something."

"Thank you," murmured Orihime, blushing.

Szayel watched her momentarily before walking across the hall to his resting chamber. He threw the closet door open. Inside hung an extra uniform. He pulled the clothes from the hanger and stripped the wet clothes off. Pulling the sheet off the bed Szayel used it to dry himself, and then pulled the fresh clothes on.

Now to find something for Orihime to wear.

The only thing left in the closet was his old Espada uniform, from when he was still the Decima Espada. Szayel glared at the uniform but picked it up anyway. Taking another blanket from the bed and closing the closet door, he returned to the room and handed her the clothing and blanket.

"That's all I have, but I think it should fit."

"Thanks again," Orihime said, taking the bundle from him. She paused. "Umm, if you don't mind, you know…"

"Of course," said Szayel. "Let me know when you're done." He headed for the door and shut it behind him.

Orihime waited a couple seconds before removing her clothing and drying herself off. She didn't know why, but the thought of Szayel being with her when she was changed felt inappropriate. It wasn't like with Ishida in Soul Society, when they had taken some nameless Shinigami's clothing. That was like being with Tatsuki, so she didn't feel awkward changing in front of him.

This wasn't the same.

It took some effort on Orihime's part to get the clothing to work. The top was tight at her chest, more than the other uniform, but it was acceptable. The bottoms were too loose at the waist and kept slipping down. She took the mostly dry sash from her uniform and tied it around her waist in a big bow.

"I'm done, Szayel!"

Orihime resisted the urge to fidget. It wouldn't be good if the bow were to come undone. In the back of her mind she prayed to whatever gods were listening to keep the sash tied.

The Octava Espada opened the door. Try as he might, he couldn't help staring.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," said Szayel, closing the door. He made his way over until he stood beside her. "It's different seeing you in those clothes. I suppose I'm used to seeing you in your uniform."

That wasn't the only reason, of course. His uniform didn't quite look the same on her. The cloth hugged her body in certain places, making it obvious it wasn't made for a woman.

"The hell? You didn't write anything about her boobs! How do you miss that?"

Szayel closed his eyes, willing Nnoitra's words to exit his mind.

He was rather impressed with Orihime's ingenuity when it came to the bottom half of his uniform, using the sash from her own as a belt. Szayel didn't consider until he had stepped out of the room that the bottom would be too large for her petite frame. And by that time, there was nothing he could do.

Orihime shifted her gaze from the window to him. "Thank you, Szayel, for letting me go out in the rain. And for the clothing. And…for letting me have a bit of happiness I never thought I would experience again." She was about to bow, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"You're welcome," Szayel said, smiling. "But I don't think it would be wise to tempt fate, if you understand my meaning." He glanced at the bow at her waist.

Heat rushed to Orihime's face as she nodded in agreement.

The pair watched the rain die down to a light drizzle. Soon it ceased altogether. A couple hollow-lizards poked their heads out of the sand and, deciding the weather was suitable, crawled out. Orihime giggled at the spectacle they made of it, shaking their heads to remove the sand plastered there.

"You know, Orihime," said Szayel, "you're a lot like rain."

Orihime glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

He watched her play with a loose string on his uniform while she waited for his answer. She was tempted to repeat her question when Szayel finally replied.

"You bring life."